At dusk, a farmer walks through his cornfield and hears himself as if from outside, a low hum under the sound of crickets. The title pairs "Scarecrow" and "Farmer," and the poem slowly blurs the two. The farmer moves stiffly, "one season on each foot," as though his whole working life is packed into every step. His collar is crusted with the day's salt, and the hoe digs into his shoulder. He is tired, and he carries that tiredness in his body.
Above him, a bird calls out and wings brush past, but he doesn't look up. In the last stanza, the scarecrow stands against the stars wearing the farmer's old clothes, shivering under its straw. The image suggests the farmer sees a worn-out version of himself there, or a past self left standing watch.
The mood is quiet, dim and a little eerie, but not hostile. It feels like the calm, lonely end of a long day of labor, with a faint sadness about time passing.